


S.T.1.L.E.5.

by TheAnswersInTheWind



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (but he doesn't really get to use them... oops), Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Mutants, Assets & Handlers, Freedom, Gen, Kidnapped Stiles Stilinski, Kidnapping, Lies, Non-Sexual Slavery, One Shot, Pre-Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Rebels, Slavery, Stiles Stilinski Has Powers, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, Wordcount: Under 10.000, corrupt government bureaucracy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22447087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAnswersInTheWind/pseuds/TheAnswersInTheWind
Summary: Stiles was 'acquired' by the Bureau of Mutation Management in his mother's final days.Eight years later, on a routine mission, a group of rebels kidnap the Bureau's most efficient Asset.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 71





	S.T.1.L.E.5.

Agent Parish wasn't the worst handler. He at least acted like Stiles was a partner, a coworker with the illusion of free agency. But the man took his job too seriously and he  _ hovered _ .

The handler's presence just behind Stiles' right elbow could be a comforting presence some days when the public glares were too scalding to feel safe but today… Stiles didn't want to be  _ handled _ today. He didn't want to get out of bed today, but here he was in a shitty neighborhood outside LA about to ruin some poor kid's life.

_ A dog on a very short leash. _

"Parish," Stiles took a calming breath, "can you just take like a step back man?"

The taller man eyed Stiles curiously, "you know I-"

"Yeah, I know you can't. Protocols and shit. Forget I asked." 

Stiles pulled at the collar of his standard-issue shirt, adjusting the stifling tie.

Parish waited a beat before asking carefully, "What's going on Stiles? I checked your vitals this morning and your psych eval last week was-"

"Fine. I'm fine Parish, seriously, forget I asked."

And he was 'fine', everything was all as fine and dandy as it could be in a fucked up dystopian shit hole of a world. 

Stiles bit back a sigh, aware Parish was cataloging his every mood, probably making mental notes to include in the daily progress reports he submitted to the home office. 

_ Everything is fine. Hold it together Stiles _ . 

The younger man dropped his hand from his tie and squared his shoulders, "Let's just do our job."

"Alright buddy, but if-ungh" Parish grunted as he fell away from where Stiles could feel the man’s presence behind his right arm.

"Par-?" 

Before Stiles could turn to look at his handler a gag was forced into his mouth, a blind fold over his eyes, and a hypo in his arm.

Stiles felt three sets of hands on him as he fell. 

_ Just when I thought this day couldn't get any more  _ **_fine_ ** . He thought as the world went black.

\--------

Stiles came to slowly in the darkness. 

_ Blindfold _ , his mind informed him sluggishly as the dense fabric pressed firmly over his eyes. The gag in his mouth registered as soggy and foul while his throat was bone dry.

The heavy press of cuffs clinking against the metal band the home office had welded around his wrist eight years ago, brought to his attention the uncomfortable stretch of his arms behind his back. Cold metal pressed sharply against his spine.

_ Metal chair and double thick cuffs. They're not taking any chances. _

"He's awake." A feminine voice came from the left.

The air shifted in front of Stiles.

"We want to know who you were after. Tap your foot once if you'll do the right thing and tell us." A deep voice came from a short distance in front of him. 

Stiles stayed perfectly still. 

"We know you're in acquisitions. You had a handler tailing you so you're here on a retrieval."

The man paused and Stiles didn't move.

"What kid were you here to kidnap asshole?!" 

_ Assholes are the ones who tie up teenagers and yell in their blindfolded faces. _ As much as he believed in ‘sharing is caring’, Stiles kept his retort to himself.

"D." Another man’s firm voice came from the right, "He's a kid himself."

_ Why thank you Voice of Reason! _

And there it was. An exploitable angle these underground rebel idiots would fall for. He'd keep them busy until the home office sent in a team. Now if only they'd take his gag off.

"Run his numbers." The voice in front growled, his footsteps sounded letting Stiles know had moved about 2 meters away. The sound of rapid typing followed.

"He's an alpha class," the lady stated moments later and Stiles' stomach clenched. These rebels had resources if they could hack into the home office servers deep enough to access his files.

"His powers?" Deep voice asked.

"Verbal suggestion. If he can't talk we'll be fine."

_ Well shit. _

The softer ‘voice of reason’ at the right asked, "What's his name?"

The woman answered, "His identification is ST1LE5. There’s… no name listed."

A silence stretched heavily around the room. He could feel their pitying stares and resisted the urge to scream.

So what if the home office took his name from him like they took his father and his final moments with his mother. They took his life, his autonomy, his ability and made it their own. Fuck these rebels and their pity. He didn't need it. He’d get by, he always had, just like he survived without the rest of it.

"He's Alpha class so we’ll need to worry about tracking. What's he outfitted with?"

"He was ' _ acquired _ ' eight years ago. Safe to say he got a gen 3 shoulder implant when he was first processed."

Stiles' shoulders stiffened. The phantom pain of that day... his  _ processing _ pounded through him all over again. No way in hell were they getting the transmitter out without stupidly invasive surgery and he'd be damned if they started cutting him open right here.

"S, the vest." Deep voice ‘D’ commanded and the man on the right shuffled about moving something that sounded heavy.

A cool solid weight was wrapped around his frame and velcroed down his sternum. 

"Hit it." 

"Initiating. Give it a minute. The static field we've got around the building should have stalled any search party but we'll need to move him soon if we want to stay ahead of a retrieval team." The woman's voice was hard for Stiles to make out over the humming which began coming from the "vest" wrapped around him. 

_ Electromagnet? Signal jammer? Localised EMP? I hope to hell this thing isn't rigged to explode! _

"We can't leave the area until we know who they were after." D's voice was closer now, near Stiles' left shoulder.

"D… can we take the blindfold off? Maybe let him up?"

"No-"

"D, I'm just thinking he's probably scared. They've had him for eight years and that means he had to be tiny when they took him. Remember when they took you? How scared you were and you were 15!"

_ Wait. _

Stiles ran the S-man's comments through his head. These guys were taken too? They were from the home office? They were assets like him?!

_ Probably just a ploy. They want me to trust them… _

"S. That's enough."

"We kidnapped him just like they did. We tied him up and for all he knows we're just like them! We have to give him a reason to know we can keep him and the kid safe."

"You're too green S. The Sheriff never should have cleared you for this mission!" D sounded like a dick. Stiles decided he liked this S guy much better.

"Let him try D." The woman’s voice cut in, her fingers still typing by the constant sound of keys.

No one talked. No one moved. Stiles desperately wished he could see the faces of these rebels, judge their expressions for himself.

And then suddenly, light was searing his pupils as the blindfold was hastily pulled up off his head.

It took a handful of seconds for Stiles' eyes to adjust. A boy in his late teens smiled brightly from where he knelt in front of the metal chair, black cloth blindfold held loosely in his hands. Agent Parish laid unconscious and handcuffed to a cement pillar ten meters off to the right. 

"Hi man, I'm Scott."

A groan came from a much broader man a few meters back behind Scott. 

"And you just give him your name. It's like you were never trained!" 

"And that," Scott continued unphased, "is D. He'd probably kill me if I told you his name so you'll have to wait. L is on the computers." 

A pretty redhead around Scott's age waved half-heartedly from behind the makeshift control center where she was focused on 3 screens at once.

"We, uh, I guess we're like you. We have abilities and the Bureau of Mutant Management came after all of us. D worked in enforcement for two years before the Sheriff, he's uh the guy who set this whole thing up, and he rescued D and his sisters. Then D saved me before an acquisition team could get me and now we try to save people like you." Scott grinned proudly.

Stiles eyed Scott. This was new. Stiles had been briefed on black market power dealers and slavers, he'd been made aware of scams and snares that preyed upon an asset's desire for freedom. But rebels, actually successful liberation… this was too good to be true.

"We've got the means to help you, get your tracker out, make you a new identity and help you start a new life. We've even got a group we can send you to live with up in the Canadian Free Zones-"

"Scott! That's enough." D cut the younger man off.

"I was just-"

"You were putting them all in danger. After Allison- You of all people should know, some folk can't leave being an asset behind."

Scott looked like a kicked puppy and Stiles felt for him. Some assets had been with the home office for so long, believed the doctrine so fervently, there was nothing beyond the job.

D came closer and stood beside Scott, an apologetic hand placed on the younger man's shoulder.

And then his grey-green eyes were on Stiles’.

"We do want to help you kid. They took you for 8 years and we want to help you get out. We're the real deal, all you need to do is tell us who you were sent for. Help us so we can save both of you."

Despite the man's rough manner and overall sour personality there was something sincere in D's eyes. The big guy really thought he could save them.

_ Shit. _

Stiles wanted to help them, he did. The kid he'd been sent for deserved to be free. And yet… 

Stiles let his eyes fall from where they'd been watching D's. He shook his head no.

Stiles just…he couldn't, not when-

"Come on man! You can't enjoy this life!" Scott shouted, springing to his feet.

"It's not always that easy." D's voice held a note of understanding, "L, does his file say anything about a contract?"

L hummed, her manicured nails clacking across keys before she spoke, "huh, yeah, something about a contract and disciplinary action. Kid had a rebellious streak his first week after being processed then signed a contract and nothing, no behavioral infractions and…"

"And what?" Scott asked when L’s voice didn’t return.

L looked up at Stiles with something like horror shining in her wide hazel eyes.

"He has a  _ perfect _ acquisition record. He's brought in over… God, over 300 kids."

Scott inhaled sharply, "Over 300?! And for what? Contracted for money? You brought them the kids for a paycheck?" The young man rounded on Stiles. 

Scott didn't understand, he didn't, but the accusations still stung.

D took a deep breath, his eyes staying on Stiles, "It's not always so simple Scott." 

Watching Stiles, the older man asked with surprising gentleness, "They told you they took someone, didn't they? If you were good, followed their rules your family was safe."

"Wait what?" Scott looked lost and D broke eye contact to look at him.

L's voice cut in smoothly, her tone acidic. "It was a tactic the Bureau used more prolifically in the BMM’s early days. They'd tell kids the Bureau had also taken a family member, parent or sibling usually, and that the family member would be punished for any misbehavior. The practice was deemed psychological torture a few years back but that didn't stop them from continuing the tactic with 'contracted' assets. The kids - usually too young to understand the paper they were signing - essentially gave legal consent to-"

"To be lied to." D cut in. 

L nodded gravely.

"Look kid," D turned his gaze back towards Stiles, "the Bureau lied. They don't have anyone from your family, they never did."

_ What? _ Stiles tried to wrap his brain around what they were saying. His dad wasn't being held hostage for the past 8 years? But there had been pictures… right? And a recording, definitely a scared recording of his dad’s voice begging for mercy and… 

_ Yeah but what the hell do I remember about that recording? I wouldn't be able to tell a soul what was said, I haven't heard it since I was 10 years old… but he’d sounded so scared… hadn’t he? _

_ Could it all be a lie? _

"It was a lie." D said softly. 

_ Can he read minds?! _

"It was a lie and L here is really good at tracking people down. We reunite families all the time. We can find them for you. Let us help you." 

D sounded so earnest, so desperate for Stiles to trust him; a hint of fear rested in the older man's eyes, a fear that Stiles would become like countless others he hadn't been able to save.

Tears burned behind Stiles' eyes and he suddenly felt so tired, exhausted by the weight of living in hell for 8 years and ready to be free of the burden. 

_ Free. _ He could be free, he could find his dad, he could…. He could do just about anything as a free man.

Stiles nodded one sharp time.

"You'll let us help you?"

Another nod.

"Can you give us the name of the other kid, the one you came for?"

A third nod.

"Okay, thank you. I'm going to take the gag off and Scott’ll let you up here in a second. L is going to wear sound canceling headphones, so let's keep our abilities out of this for now, yeah?"

One final nod and D untied the gag with agile fingers while Scott pulled out a key to release the cuffs.

Stiles groaned as blood flowed back unto his arms. He flexed his fingers.

"Isaac." Stiles whispered as if the home office was listening, waiting for Stiles to break.

"Sorry, what?"

"The acquisition… the kid, the name I was given to retrieve was Isaac Lahey. 16, blond, shifter-ability, living in a beige 1950’s one story off main and Washington ave."

"L?"

"E and B are on it. Kid should be with us in 15. We need to get packed up and in the van. Retrieval and enforcement crews are on their way eta of 24 minutes."

"Scott, you heard the woman, let's tear down and wipe for trace evidence. Leave the handler tied up for Retrieval to find." 

D gave the commands with routine ease before turning back to Stiles who was rubbing the pins and needles from his arms beneath the heavy humming vest still draped over his skinny shoulders.

"Uh, my dad?" Stiles asked softly 

"I'm sure he's out there, we'll find him kid."

"Stiles."

"Sorry?"

"My name. S.T.1.L.E.5… I say it as  _ Stiles _ ." 

Stiles extended a hand to shake.

D looked surprised and a little sad, "It's a pleasure to meet you Stiles. I'm Derek."

Stiles nodded and fidgeted where he stood, "Do you think… could I maybe… I'm going to help you." He declared, "I don't care what you say, I'm an asset and my ability makes me useful to you guys. You're going to let me help."

"Am I now?"

"Yes!"

"And did you just compelled me to with your abilities?" Derek asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No! I wouldn't- that's unethical!"

"Oh the Sheriff's going to have a field day with you." Scott laughed from across the room where he was carrying a massive box towards a white van. "I'll introduce you when we get back to base."

Stiles felt a bizarre jittery calm settle into his bones as he hoisted himself into a seat at the back of the van. He was free at last.

\--------

_ Freedom could go fuck itself. _

Stiles cursed as the van nearly flipped while the driver, a petite blond woman with a smile sharper than a shark’s, took the turn too tight and too fast.

The acquisition-  _ no, fuck shit - _ The  _ kid _ , Isaac, was huddled in a corner shuddering after a massive black guy had lifted the teen up by his scruff like a forgotten puppy and plopped him next to Stiles in the back of the van.

_ Some rescue operation this turned out to be _ .

The Retrieval team had arrived 8 minutes earlier than L’s prediction making the current car chase a nauseating necessity.

“Hold on, I’ve almost lost them!” The blond cheered.

“You said that three miles back!” Scott called, more than a bit green as he gripped his seat with two hands. 

_ Wait, did he have claws?! _

“Take the next left into the alley, wait .43 milliseconds, three-point-turn in the next 4.78 seconds, and take 1st down to State. We should lose the tail.” 

L’s eyes never left her computer screen as she calmly rattled off what Stiles couldn't help but feel were hyper-specific and nye on impossible to execute directions.

“You okay there Isaac?” Scott called over to the cowering figure, leaving his seat to check on the kid.

“F-fine” the teen murmured before getting audibly sick, a generous amount splashing on Stiles’ Bureau issued boots.

The van turned sharply in the next instant and Scott’s body slammed into Stiles’, whose head then hit the van  _ hard _ .

_ Just when today couldn’t get any more ‘ _ fine’ _. _

The world darkened for a second time that day.

\--------

“Stiles! You with me man?” 

The world came rushing back in an instant, along with a splitting headache.

The idiot Scott was smiling goofy and lopsided as he stood over Stiles’ spot on the floor of the van - thankfully away from Isaac’s lunch…

“Finally! I thought the Bureau might have mind whammied you or something!”

“No,” Stiles bit back a groan as he cradled his throbbing head in his hands, “I was  _ whammied _ by 100% grade A idiot. Now get your damn seat belt on!”

Derek coughed once off to the side, hiding a smile behind his hand.

_ Oh Karma, what did I do to earn this particular band of misfits for a rescue committee? _

Isaac whimpered from somewhere off to Stiles’ left.

_ Oh yeah. 300 kids.  _ Stiles closed his eyes and wished the day could just be the fuck over.

They drove long and late into the night, breaking for gas twice before the van pulled to a stop inside a garage bay of what looked like a warehouse.

“Welcome to home base!” Scott cheerily jumped down from the van as L opened the back doors for them.

Derek helped Isaac down, handing him off to some welcome committee that had poured out to meet them.

“You doing okay in there Stiles?” Derek asked softly.

Stiles shrugged. 

Derek hopped up into the van surprisingly gracefully for someone of his size and approached slowly, sitting on the bench opposite Stiles.

“I know this is a big change for you. They only had their teeth in me for three years and I fought the Sheriff when he tried to get me in a van like this one, I can’t imagine what you’re feeling after eight.” 

“What changed your mind?” Stiles found himself asking, breaking the silence that had grown softly around them.

Derek looked at his hands clasped in front of him. 

“My sister was sick, a bad reaction to the tracking implant that we’d been hiding from the Bureau’s hack doctors. Sheriff said he could save her and damned if he didn’t deliver. The Sheriff’s a good guy and he’s got a good thing going here for people like us. You said you wanted to help us, why don’t I take you to meet him?”

“He’s the handler?” Stiles asked, clutching his own hands together to hide how they’d begun to shake.

Derek’s hand covered Stiles’ gently, his eyes finding Stiles’ own.

“There are no handlers here, Stiles. This isn’t the Bureau. You help on the missions you want to; you sit out on the ones you don’t. You can use your ability every day if you want or never again. Every choice is yours to make; you’re free now Stiles.”

Tears welled up in Stiles’ eyes as the truth sank in.

“They’ll come for me. You heard my record. I’m an asset and they’ll never let me leave.”

“They’ll never find you.” Derek growled, his eyes flashing an unsettling red but Stiles felt safer than he had in years.

Standing, Stiles rubbed his aching head and almost lost balance as the heavy vest threw off his center of gravity. Derek placed a steadying hand on Stiles’ shoulder and nodded once before leading the way out of the van.

Stiles walked behind Derek’s broader frame as they left the garage bay and through the rebel’s “home base” as Scott had called it. Traversing hallways, passing curious eyes, it seemed even here their hot judging gazes followed him. He’d been a fool to think he’d be instantly accepted here; the slate wiped clean.

_ ‘God, over 300 kids _ . _ ’ _

L’s voice rang in his mind and Stiles knew he deserved it. He’d made these people mountains more work, probably brought in their children or siblings or hell...

_ Maybe… what if I brought them in? What if I compelled them to enter the Bureau? Fuck. _

The thought hit Stiles hard as his headache redoubled and Stiles just wanted to hide and sleep til he died.

Distracted, Stiles nearly walked right into Derek as the older man stopped suddenly, knocking on a heavy wooden door. A muffled voice told them to enter.

“Evening Sheriff, thought I’d stop by with a new recruit.”

Derek turned to Stiles with a small smile, gesturing him into the small lit office of this so called Sheriff. 

The man was surprisingly unassuming with his beige Sheriff’s get up and mousy brown hair. He was both unassuming and breathtakingly familiar.

“Dad?!”

The Sheriff- no, Noah Stilinsiki froze then his eyes filled with tears as he quickly moved to meet Stiles, his arms wrapping impossibly strong around Stiles’ shoulders and vest.

“ Mieczyslaw? How?”

Hearing his name aloud for the first time in eight years broke the damns Stiles had shored up inside and he let himself weep like a baby in his father’s arms.

And to think, he’d started this day dreading the date.

“H-happy birthday dad.” Stiles coughed out between sobs and his father just squeezed him to his chest that much harder.

Perhaps the day was going to turn out  _ fine _ after all.

**Author's Note:**

> (I recognize it isn't made clear in the story, but Stiles did not realize "the Sheriff" was his father because when he was kidnapped his dad was a deputy. The new title didn't apply to his dad until he saw him.)
> 
> Handler concept borrowed from the Joss Whedon show Dollhouse which in part inspired this fic. Inspired to use the term "home office" from the Umbrella Academy.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Feedback is appreciated if you have a moment to share your thoughts :)


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